


Welcome Annihilation

by Dethroned



Series: Sanguinary [1]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Decisions, Blood Drinking, Blood Sharing, Explicit Language, Implied Kusanagi Izumo/Totsuka Tatara/Suoh Mikoto, Intoxication, M/M, Mentions of Suoh Mikoto/Totsuka Tatara, Minor Kusanagi Izumo/Totsuka Tatara, Power Imbalance, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21811903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dethroned/pseuds/Dethroned
Summary: The retaliation Mikoto desired couldn’t be achieved and what he’d done couldn’t outweigh his anger. It left Izumo picking up the pieces. (Vampire AU)
Relationships: Kusanagi Izumo/Suoh Mikoto
Series: Sanguinary [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571692
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Welcome Annihilation

A mixture of smoke and other unwholesome things polluted the air of the small bar, covering it in a thick uneven layer of filth. Goers obscured the walls in words and crude drawings, the work so juvenile and messy it’d be an insult to call it graffiti; and the floors… he didn’t even want to think about the things caked on the unfinished floors.

Izumo pinched the bridge of his nose, the dull roar of voices filtering through the deafening music unpleasant. People stood around tables or crammed themselves on well-worn sofas and rickety barstools, pressed so close together it made his skin crawl. He could feel the beginnings of a headache blossoming at the front of his skull.

Izumo grit his teeth as he trudged into the joint, scanning its breadth for a shock of deep red hair. Even if the other heads sported similar colorings, Izumo spotted him easily enough. The distinctive styling and his ability to draw people in (despite all the piss and vinegar) worked well for his king, and so Izumo knew where to look most of the time.

The irony of it made him chuckle, the kind that shook his body more than it made any noise. The kind that made him want to collapse onto a good couch in the comfort of his own bar. The kind that told him he needed sleep, bad. But he found Mikoto. He finally fucking found him drowning in a sea of repugnant people. Sinking in a patch of quicksand and bad blood.

A premature sigh of relief escaped his lips as he realized still needed to drag the fiend out of the pools and pits, a challenging task in and of itself. A sigh of disdain replaced the former, Izumo’s shoulders slumping at the thought of jumping in after him. That’s what companions did, right? He almost couldn’t ignore the ache in his muscles or the pang in his throat and gums any longer.

His stagnant presence must’ve been a beacon to the constant motion of the throng because Mikoto glanced up from a tattered couch and made passing eye contact with Izumo’s purple shades, sinking into the neck of some poor girl beside him. Something unpleasant roiled in his belly as he watched him drink deep, and Izumo clicked his tongue against his teeth, perturbed. Feeding on intoxicated humans never ended well for any and all involved. He could feel dread burrowing in his chest like a wasp just thinking about it.

Time to tempt the demon back in its cage.

“You’re it,” he said, his voice more level than it ought to be. The scattered thoughts didn’t match the unwavering timber coming from his mouth, but he’d make do. Regardless, Mikoto ignored him, continuing to siphon spirit from the girl, but Izumo knew he heard him. Some of the others sitting on the couch started to stare, a few giving him dirty looks that said _get lost_ or _come closer_. He honestly wished they’d get lost, wondered why none of them gawked at Mikoto, wondered if maybe they didn’t because they wanted their turn. Fuck, if he knew.

“Mikoto.” A little louder, a little more push, but no less weary. The exhaustion seeping through his skin into his muscles and bones clouded his demand for alacrity and intensity, but he could at least try and fake it for the time being. Yes, Izumo wanted nothing more than to get back to his place so he could relax, so that Totsuka could relax, and get a decent meal, but time was a fickle beast.

“Fuck off,” Mikoto hissed, the girl falling back into the couch like a ragdoll as he tossed her to the side. No one batted an eye in her direction, the poor thing. He supposed that’s what you got when you lived in a town like this. People probably went missing all the time, people that were probably never looked for, let alone found.

A thin trail of blood skirted down Mikoto’s chin and he wiped it on the sleeve of his jacket as he stood up and shouldered passed Izumo. Or tried to. Izumo’s hand caught around his wrist in one fluid motion, forcing him to an uneasy halt. Any concept of personal space disintegrated to ash as Mikoto stepped dangerously close, their noses nearly touching. “Back off,” he rumbled lowly, his snarl a warning.

Izumo felt his breath hot on his cheek, smelled the blood on his tongue, and deliberated if he could see the strain in Izumo’s features. He gazed into Mikoto’s golden irises, his pupils blown from only God knows what, and considered how much Mikoto’d had to drink versus how little Izumo’d had.

“Or what?” he deadpanned. A secret let slip by the universe told Izumo just how this night would end, and the awareness had his blood vessels constricting in expectancy? trepidation? reluctance? Possibly all three.

But really, what could Mikoto do to him that he hadn’t already? Long decades together allowed them to take certain liberties with each other when tensions were high. The only one who never got the brunt of it was Totsuka, as much of a little shit he could be. Staying mad at him was like being irritated with the sun for keeping you warm on a cold day. Hard to resist basking in its heat despite its frustrating brightness.

Totsuka smacked Izumo when he told him to stay at the bar and wait, Izumo’s cheek smarting, the act surprising with as enervated as Totsuka was. He didn’t think Totsuka’d lash out a second time and so he’d taken the slap, letting it slide because clearly, he was hurting. They both were. But Totsuka went for him again and Izumo’d grabbed his wrists and held him there until he stopped struggling, his body collapsing into Izumo’s chest, tears leaking from his brown eyes.

Part of him wished the brat had come with because then it might’ve been easier to rope Mikoto in, but he also knew what a disaster that would’ve been, especially for Izumo (and his patience and stamina were already running on empty).

Mikoto yanked his arm from Izumo’s grip and shoved his hands in his pockets as he turned for the exit. _At least he’s leaving this hellhole_ , he thought, following him out the door as a wave of fresh air hit him and freed his lungs from the smothering odors of the bar, the sensation nirvana-like.

The complacency in him hoped he’d dampened Mikoto’s mood because he’d drenched his with a ten-gallon bucket (and then some). Playing hide and seek was not on his agenda for the week, yet here they were, sorry and sore. The retaliation Mikoto desired couldn’t be achieved and what he’d done couldn’t outweigh his anger. It left Izumo picking up the pieces.

Izumo pulled his phone out and opened the message screen, called off the search, and then re-pocketed it. His phone buzzed against him, though he ignored the replies, instead focusing on the direction Mikoto headed. Getting his car crossed his mind, but he also knew Mikoto would pull a dick move and snake down an alley he wouldn’t be able to get into without abandoning the thing. He didn’t need to come back to his car sitting on cinderblocks, or worse. Even leaving it by the bar gave him doubts, but he continued forward, carting out a cigarette and kindling it. The nicotine flooded his system and offered a small respite from the last three days of worry, fatigue, and bitterness that plagued him.

“Mikoto.” The same level, even voice, though with a little less inflection. The exhaustion weighed on him, his limbs a little heavier than usual and his thought processes a little slower. Relying on nicotine alone to feed him wasn’t going to do him any favors, though he wished it would. He should’ve grabbed something before he left but dealing with Totsuka and everything else left him with little thought of it.

“Get lost, Kusanagi.” A warning. A threat. A promise.

He really, really hoped they weren’t going to talk in circles all night. “Or what?”

_Too late_.

Mikoto chuckled darkly. “You really wanna find out?”

Izumo knew he didn’t see his half-hearted shrug, but he didn’t bother responding, anyway. Either he was or he wasn’t. Grey areas didn’t exist in this moment for either of them, and letting Mikoto continue his dance with the devil wasn’t an option. To hell with the consequences.

He watched as Mikoto slipped his hands from his jacket and patted them against his jeans in search of something, probably cigarettes. His hands came up empty and he cursed under his breath.

“Need a smoke?”

After a bit of frustrating silence on Mikoto’s part, his ambling slowed and Izumo took that as a cue, pulling another cigarette out and slipping it into Mikoto’s fingers. He grumbled something and Izumo took that as a sort of thank you, flicking his lighter out with practiced ease and igniting the tobacco. The cherry echoed in Mikoto’s shot eyes, the colors melding and complimenting each other seamlessly, molten lava and red heat. For all Izumo’s staring, Mikoto kept his eyes straight ahead, pretending the exchange hadn’t taken place.

_What a charmer, this one_.

There was no fooling Izumo, though. Fooling somebody else, sure. A passing stranger might glance at Mikoto and not think twice about it, but Izumo could see the differences. Like the way he kept trying to adjust his pupils by blinking too often, or the way he slightly veered while walking. However, the biggest difference was in the way he smelled. Mikoto’s normal smoke and ash mixed with the scent of artificial chemicals and too many human endorphins that had his heart beating in strange patterns every so often.

Those like them were a lot harder to come under the influence by conventional means, a bit easier via unconventional. Drinking tainted blood, for instance. There were other ways, darker ways, that Izumo didn’t like to think about, but they’d all done it to some degree, and one of them always had to pull the other back in, dragging them back down with vague knowledge of the harm inflicted on themselves and others.

Only Mikoto knew how many humans he’d bled in the last three days, how many hits he’d taken to fuck himself up. The trail he’d left behind here and there for Izumo to clean up gave him an inkling, a nudge as to what he’d done. Memories to alter, wounds to fix, a corpse to bury. All that fell under the category of minor misgivings. Sometimes not knowing was better.

The thought put a bad taste in Izumo’s mouth as he reminisced on his own past indiscretions. Anger drove most people to do stupid things, like trying to mask it with feelings of euphoria and chasing the next high. Sorrow was sometimes one and the same with anger, and Izumo figured his oldest friend felt them both on separate but equal levels.

“Go away,” Mikoto said, dismissive. He shoved his hands back into his coat pockets, the cigarette hanging loosely between his lips, smoke coiling around him. He’d stopped the irregular lidding of his eyes and opted to leave them closed, relying on other senses to guide him.

“Not happenin’.” He kept up the leisurely pace but neglected to stop him, didn’t think he could stop him. But if he could prevent more trouble by following him, by keeping his mind on him, well, Izumo didn’t see any imminent drawbacks except for the one.

The substances circling through Mikoto’s body needed flushing and walking around in the cold offered some letup, albeit a small one. “Let’s go home. Totsuka’s waitin’ for you.” _I’m waitin’ for you._ _We’re all okay._ The wounds were healing, the damage retreating. Mikoto didn’t need to keep lashing out. Izumo tried to convey those things with his words, but apparently, they fell on deaf ears.

He felt the regret brewing in his gut as he said, “He told me he wasn’t gonna eat until you came home, y’know.” He trailed off for a minute, thinking about the altercation and wondering if Mikoto believed Izumo would let him starve himself. He wouldn’t, of course, not ever, and so he continued. “He’s a feisty little shit when he wants to be. I’m sure you remember how persistent he can be even while injured, but don’t worry. I fed him some of my blood last night, he wouldn’t take anything else, though it wasn’t much.”

He expected his words to act as a catalyst to a violent reaction, but when Mikoto’s eyes popped open and his shoulders tensed, the only thing that left his mouth was a plume of smoke, wordless and fading. Had he doused the flames, or had he stoked them? Izumo couldn’t tell quite yet, the feedback unexpectedly cool.

Their covenant stated they could only exploit the act of blood sharing when the three of them were together, but Izumo’s desperation and Totsuka’s situation left him with no choice. Izumo’d forced it down his throat with quite a bit of opposition, but Mikoto didn’t need to know that. Let him think it was a tender moment. Let him take it out on Izumo. He knew Mikoto wanted Totsuka more than he wanted him. His touches were always gentler, his words always kinder, but Izumo never held it against the little monster. How could he? He just wished Mikoto’d show him the same warmth from time to time, and Totsuka knew this. Tried to make up for it.

“He hasn’t stopped texting and calling, y’know.” Izumo pulled out his phone and finally looked at the missed calls and ignored messages. Not all of them were from Totsuka, but that didn’t matter right this second. He started scrolling through them and reading them aloud.

“ _Tell me where you are, Kusanagi-san, please. I want to see him. Tell him to come home. Please. Please pick up the phone. Where are you? We can bring him home together. Kusanagi-san, tell him I’m—_ ”

He’d stoked the fire.

Mikoto ripped Izumo from the sidewalk and crushed his back flat into the brick wall of an alleyway, the movement so fast he hardly had time to blink. “Stop fucking talking,” he snarled, teeth clenched tight. His fists bunched into the fabric of Izumo’s shirt and jacket near his collar, his knuckles pressing into bone. His own hands were empty and braced against the rough exterior of the building, his phone and cigarette laying on the ground a few feet away, the same as Mikoto’s.

“Fuck, Mikoto, that hurt, y’bastard.” Spots dotted the back of his vision from where his head connected with the brick, and he thought he could smell blood. Or taste it, he wasn’t sure. He really should’ve eaten. Half his vision ran clear, the other half purple, as he regained some composure. Izumo clumsily reached up to fix the frames perched crookedly on the bridge of his nose but Mikoto beat him to it, tugging the shades off completely and tossing them to the side. “Tch. Was that necessary?” He didn’t answer.

He offered no resistance as Mikoto pinned him to the wall, just let his arms hang loosely at his sides waiting for whatever the universe had planned for him. Izumo didn’t have the energy to put up a fight, anyway. Eating had been the last thing on his mind and forcing Totsuka to drink from him left him even weaker. _I’m no better than he is_ , he mused, quiet laughter on his lips.

Mikoto snagged Izumo’s jaw in his fingers and forced him to look at him. “What’s so funny?” He pressed into him with more force and Izumo groaned, shaking his head. He did tell him to stop talking, didn’t he? Two could play at this game, even though Izumo’s desire to shuddered like a solitary ember. Resignation settling in with the fatigue left him drifting along whatever course this was taking because fuck, he didn’t think he could keep up anymore.

A blaze burned in the depths of Mikoto’s golden irises as Izumo remained motionless. They were quite nice, those eyes, when emotion passed through them. It gave Mikoto passion normally lacking, gave him purpose, a newfangled importance. Izumo wished they shone like that under conditions that weren’t so extreme, but alas that wouldn’t be Mikoto, now would it? There were occasions, intermittent though they were, when Mikoto completely surrendered, life flowing through him, out of him, _into them_.

That’s when Izumo loved to see those ocher eyes scorch, to feel the heat under that gaze, a fire rising under his skin. There was such a thing as good destruction. Izumo’d witnessed it firsthand along with Totsuka. Beautiful, welcome, annihilation on them and to each other. Nevertheless, it was one extreme or the other with Mikoto. In between was just in between.

Mikoto’s fingers flexed against his jaw, testing and tightening almost painfully and his brow twitched in response to the pressure until it finally lessened. The scowl on Mikoto’s face fractionated and the flare in his eyes grew darker as he moved his hand from clasping Izumo’s jaw to enclosing around his throat. Was he giving in? Was he going to let Izumo take him home, to bring him down?

_Wishful thinking_.

The aroma of blood thickened, Izumo no longer doubting his intuition, and he stiffened when Mikoto closed in. Their cheeks brushed as he leaned close enough to whisper something in his ear, phantom words on his lips, a trick. Mikoto wound his palm to the nape of Izumo’s neck, fingers splaying upward into his hair and stopping when he found the laceration. Izumo grimaced at the weight of his fingers digging in and rubbing, not realizing earlier he’d hit his head hard enough to break skin. When he pulled his hand back to the side of Izumo’s face, a splotch of blood sat atop Mikoto’s index and middle fingers, and he brushed his thumb into both before the fluid smeared into nothingness.

The wicked gleam in his eye caught Izumo’s attention. Then he gasped.

Mikoto sank his teeth into Izumo’s throat without preamble, the act intimately vicious. He understood then the deepening flicker in Mikoto’s eyes and the shift in his expression. Had his senses really dulled that much or was Mikoto just hyper-aware? His reflexes got the better of him and Izumo inched his hands up Mikoto’s torso until he stopped at his chest and pushed with all he had. Squirmed with all his might.

It didn’t get him very far, his body close to its limit with Mikoto trying the outer boundaries of his consciousness. His teeth released and hot liquid gushed down to catch in the hollow of his clavicle, the bite deep, but it didn’t go to waste. Mikoto lapped everything up, sucking and pulling on Izumo’s flesh, his tongue trailing back up to the wounds and biting again. Izumo shuddered at the sensation, his brain flooding with mixed signals.

_Least he’s gettin’ clean blood_ , he thought between it all. _‘S good for him._

His palms rested on his chest, a faint touch forgotten, and Izumo readjusted his position. Instead of pushing, he latched on, wrapping an arm around Mikoto’s waist and hooking the other over his shoulder. _Repercussions_ , Izumo told himself. _So be it_.

Little by little the minutes ticked on and Mikoto let up his possessive hold on Izumo’s slim body as he relaxed into the blood. Izumo sucked in another sharp breath as Mikoto dug in, greedy, Izumo hoping for an end of it. Maybe they could go home. Be together. Come off this together. Get over this together.

His grip slackened on Mikoto, his fingers barely finding purchase in the material of his jacket, and his chin dropped to his shoulder. Bliss and blood loss, bliss and blood loss. The miasma circled his consciousness like a vulture, crawled along his nerves like a centipede. Everything tingled and numbed in undulating curves, on and off, up and down. Izumo dragged in a shuddering breath, his eyelids dropping like a cut string. His knees buckled and, “Ah—!”

Mikoto had a handful of Izumo’s hair and yanked his head back, deepening the kiss on his neck. _Wake up_ , it said. Izumo tried. Clawed his way back up Mikoto’s solid body. Slipped and caught himself. Slipped again. 

He shut his eyes, felt the cold brush against him, shivered. He yearned for it, grasped for the warmth, the intimacy, the insects buzzing in his ears. Heavy lids parted, the edges dark and blurry. Words echoed in his skull, the noise tapering off as the humming dimmed, the tone and intent lost on the night air. The black surrounded him once more, silent and soft, but a cold too pressing and unwelcome barred his path.

He surfaced, a new warmth calling him into awareness. It started at his lips and moved to this throat, slowly spreading outward and filling him like ink. Every filled well quieted the buzzing, inched the darkness away. The wetness of it hit him after the haze cleared, Izumo swallowing haphazardly, almost choking. It moved against his tongue with purpose and Izumo’s vision cleared, red red red. The breath he took was stolen from his mouth as he watched golden eyes die down, Mikoto’s lips and tongue crashing over him in waves as a warm fluid trickled into him.

Izumo frowned.

Mikoto’d bitten his tongue and slipped it into Izumo’s mouth, an undertaking he normally would’ve enjoyed if it hadn’t tasted so awful. Three-parts Mikoto, one-part Izumo, six-parts filth. He gagged and Mikoto let up, blood dribbling down on to his mouth and cheeks as Mikoto pulled back licking his lips. Dark red covered the lower half of his face and Izumo groaned inwardly.

He shook the image from his mind and forced his eyes away from Mikoto. Sometime during the give-and-take they’d ended up sitting on the concrete, the cold bleeding in past their clothing in a flexuous reach for bone. Izumo sat nestled in between Mikoto’s legs, his back propped up against a bent knee.

He wanted to gripe at him for taking it too far, but the remorse hidden in that bloodstained face kept Izumo quiet. Instead, he gathered the remnants of the shared blood in his mouth and spat the rest of it out, wiping his mouth with a sleeve. “I dunno how you stomach that shit.” The words slathered over his tongue lazily.

Mikoto shrugged, the movement barely noticeable. His hands were planted on the pavement behind him in support, leaning away from Izumo in guilt. This was the second time he’d nearly drank him into oblivion, but at least Izumo’d been prepared for it this time. Didn’t make it suck any less.

He gave a shaky breath and lifted a hand to his face, dragging it along his eyes and cheeks. His muscles quivered and his teeth ached into his gums with wanton need. “I need to eat,” he said, knowing what Mikoto’d given him wasn’t going to cut it.

When he didn’t respond, he chanced a look at Mikoto and saw the discomfort on his face. He quickly twisted away, his knee jarring Izumo forward as blood spilled from his mouth. Izumo disentangled from his legs, realizing he was going to keep vomiting until his stomach emptied. Disappointment hit him seeing his own blood go to waste, though it’d served its purpose.

Mikoto was on hands and knees now, sighing and gagging as intermittent spouts of blood left his stomach. He pitched over one last time, though nothing came out and he grumbled. The pits were empty, but his body was still trying to get all the sick out. He coughed, spit, and hacked as he sat back on his haunches and swore. Retching only did so much; anything left swam in his veins and would take a lot more to flush out.

“C’mon,” Izumo grunted. “You’re sick, and I need to get something in me before I pass out.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by a few writers on here with their versions of a vampire au for the K fandom and I really loved the idea, so I went and thought something up. I have a few more ideas for this triple pairing (because I love these three and I'm sad there's not more content for them) since I only briefly mentioned Totsuka, which is why I'm making this into a series. I don't know how many parts there'll be, but I've got another story in the works right now (it's very, very rough and might be a minute before it gets posted) but it's not for this pairing. Anyway, I hope you like it? Thanks for reading if you got this far and I'm sorry for any mistakes made... this hasn't been beta-read by anyone but me.


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